


collarbone

by worry



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: “Take as long as you need to complete the mission,” Six says. “Because, according to our information, he’s a little tricky. Odin might try to con or manipulate you if you come in direct contact. Just stay strong, okay? We know you can do this.”“Thank you for having faith in me.”Six laughs, entirely robotic. “Of course we have faith in you. You were chosen, remember?"(Or: Gil is an assassin "chosen by Titan" and trained to take out all of the lifeforms that have demons, as they're seen as a threat to Titan's control. His first assignment is Odin Arrow. It doesn't work out very well.)





	

[ARROW, ODIN. 18. DEMON: UNKNOWN.]

 

Gil’s fingers hover above the file as Six studies him; he can’t show weakness, can’t hesitate while the Second in Command watches. In this line of work, weakness gets you dead, or banned from Paradise, if there’s any difference between the two fates, any separation. Weakness means that Titan and his world will vanish, and so Gil is strong, because only _He_ can save Titan, only _He_ can eliminate the threats before the threats eliminate Titan’s reign. He was chosen for this, ripped right out of his normal, heathen life in death and restored because he was _chosen._ He was given a holy mission from Titan himself, Titan’s words shaking his body, Titan’s words inside of him without Titan having to open His mouth. Titan picked Gil with one hand and one dream and _Gil started out with wild animals and learned how to use guns at age ten and then moved on to people at age thirteen, those who went against Titan’s beliefs so they were_ **_useless_ ** _anyway, took lives without mercy because it’s for the best and---_

 

“What are you waiting for?” asks Six as they pace and pace around the white room. “Open the file, Marverde.”

 

Gil opens it, rolls his shoulders back. This is the only way. He kills Odin Arrow and secures himself a spot in Paradise. It’s easy like that, right? Nothing is ever easy but Gil is going to make it easier, Gil is going to pull out the bones of the world and use them as knives, Gil is going to replace the heart of the universe with Titan’s book and then everything will be easy.

 

“He’s interesting, isn’t he?”

 

It’s not Six’s hand that touches his shoulder because the touch is warm.  It is Nevy’s, and on a normal day it would be comforting, on a normal day he would sink into her, but. Today belongs to _him._ Today he is going to rise. Eventually it will get  _easier_ and Gil will let go of every attachment he has. He's in the medical program, which is what makes it so ironic; how do you save lives when you've taken so many? At what point do you get accustomed to the thin-skinned sufferings? When does the line between saving-and-hurting form, and where? Halfway vertical on a body? In a knife handle?

 

“I think I remember something,” Nevy says suddenly, blowing a bubble against his neck. “Gil, I remember… I remember the feeling of love. I remember being in love.”

 

She touches the water-soaked picture of Odin Arrow, runs her fingers over it. Nevy hums next to him, _holds him closer, and maybe she is comforting and Gil sinks into her and --_

 

and then pulls back when she sees Six’s impatient face. They are trying to make their face look comforting, he knows, but it all melts down into impatience and discomforting frigidness. Six has always been like this. They were frigid when they pulled him out of the sea and they were frigid when they made Gil kill for the first time and they are frigid now. Nothing changes. Nothing about them ever seems to change.

 

Nevy is always comforting. Nevy is the only  _warm_ thing that he knows. Six and the Followers have love-filled hearts but if a heathen looked at a follower, they would be terrified, they would recoil like the followers are monsters because the body language of every follower is the same: knife-sharp, too collected. The appearance of every follower is the same; ghostlike and plastic and _metal,_ bodies that never decay, bodies like old, rotten food. It is a misguiding look: the followers  _love_ and love and love, but it never shows.

 

Nevy, however, carries warmth in every part of her body. She is the only thing burrowed into his life that he truly _trusts_. Nevy is Nevy and he would trade Paradise for one coherent memory of her previous life. That is  _wrong,_ that isn't good, his number one priority should be Paradise. The truth: he does not have priorities, only weapons. 

 

“You should talk to them…”

 

Gil forces a laugh, forces his gaze up to Six's mouthpiece. “Ah - yes. Interesting is an appropriate word.”

 

Odin is certainly _interesting_ , body and hair completely unkempt and messy. His shirt, in the photograph, is ripped slightly in the middle, letting his skin shine through the holes like dusk sunlight. The only thing that Gil deems acceptable about him is the long, silver chain around his neck. His skin is not beautiful. Gil has never seen anything beautiful so he wouldn't know where to look for it, but he imagines beautiful as skin and color. Not this skin, not this color. Nothing about his target -  _his target -_ is - should be - beautiful.

 

(When he kills Odin he will take the necklace as a reminder that he’s _strong._ That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?)

 

“Take as long as you need to complete the mission,” Six says. “Because, according to our information, he’s a little tricky. He might try to con or manipulate you if you come in direct contact. Just stay _strong,_ okay? We know you can do this.”

 

“Thank you for having faith in me.”

 

Six laughs, entirely robotic. “Of course we have faith in you. You were chosen, remember?Now, Prudith will escort you to your ship. The tools you will need to complete this mission are hidden underneath the navigational console. Don’t worry about that, by the way. It’ll be on auto-pilot to the target’s planet.”

 

Gil nods and the room is filled with Prudith Loone’s nasal voice, bored gasps of _okay, come on._

 

He was born for this.

 

* * *

 

“The ship will depart in ten minutes,” Prudith says, backing slowly towards the exit. “I hope you’re ready.”

 

“I _am_ ready,” Gil replies, a bit too stern. He thinks about it, watches Prudith and her tired face. He could kill her right here, in this ship, with only his hands, and Strategos Six would praise him for it. They never liked her. She has always been bitter, cold-biting. He could kill her, pretend she’s Odin Arrow and he’s just practicing.

 

But he’s - too - _good_ for that. Prudith is innocent. He doesn’t hurt the innocent. He’s just holy, white light spinning off of his tongue. He only hurts the deserving, and then it’s a mercy kill. You don’t want to live in a world where you have been banished by the followers. You _don’t._

 

“Right,” she sighs. “Anything else I can help you with?”

 

“No, that will be all,” he says, and adds, a moment later, when she’s almost gone: “Thank you, Prudith.”

 

Prudith pokes her head back into the ship, stares at Gil as if no one has ever thanked her in her entire sad life. It’s probably true; no one thinks of Prudith that way. He almost wants to reach out to her, say _you can come with me if you want I get lonely,_ but he’s not supposed to pity anyone and he doesn’t want anyone to watch his hands shake around the weapon. Weakness, again, and Paradise. Your hands are not supposed to shake.

 

“You’re… welcome,” she says, and forces her eyes to the ground, and leaves. Leaves Gil to cold, cold metal and space. How fitting.

 

* * *

 

 

“Computer,” Gil says, rubbing his eyes, “how long until we reach the planet?”

 

“Nine hours and six minutes,” it replies, and its voice sounds disturbingly similar to Six’s. He wonders if the computer is programmed to do anything besides provide information, if it can help him. His entire existence revolves around machines. Can it talk? Can it keep Gil company? Can it reassure Gil that this is a mercy kill? Gil is also a machine, harmless wood sharpened into a weapon, body and mind replaced with cold, cold metal and old gears and new wires. He was made for this. Gil will have a lot to talk about with the computer. Can you scan me and make sure I’m human? I’m not human, just tell me I’m not broken and that the wires inside of me aren’t wires and are, instead, something that just makes my body work, something that makes my body go on and on so I can complete my first mission. He is going to save them from themselves. The unfortunate ones that are haunted by demons.

 

(He does not tell them about Nevy. He does not think about Nevy, or what his punishment will be if they find out he has Nevy.)

 

(Nevy is special, too. She’s harmless. She doesn’t remember anything about her old life, which means she can’t hurt Titan. They would understand. Gil is a savior. You can’t take the ability to save out of a savior. Then the savior is just a person, and where’s the fun in that?)

 

In the very back of the ship, there’s a cot on the floor. Pathetic looking, all metalwire and wood and nothing comfortable, exactly like Gil. Still: he sits down on it, because what else is he going to do for nine hours and six minutes? Sleep? Prepare himself? Teach himself not to fall for Odin Arrow’s cons and manipulation, because that’s something that they never taught him, the ability to _see._ See: there’s something about manipulation that seems just a little bit too familiar.

 

Nevy’s hand touches his shoulder, again. “You know.. you don’t have to do this, Gil. If you don’t want to.”

 

Gil shakes his head. “What I want doesn’t matter. I’m saving them. I’m helping Titan. I was made for this, Nevy. This is what I’m _supposed_ to be doing.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asks, and the machinery in Gil’s body stops moving. Is this what he wants? Is it?

 

Yes. It has to be. Who is he without blood on his hands? It’s a beautiful contrast, red on his blue skin. It’s just beautiful, just holy.

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He moves until he’s lying on his side, watching the lights on the screens flicker. This is one of Titan’s best ships, large and bright. He deserves it, he does, the treatment that he gets. The treatment that he usually gets.

 

(When he didn’t want to kill the deer they took him and locked him in a room for four days with no food or water but that’s in the past he learned how to be good _he learned how to make himself holy_ and now the treatment is better and it’s a mercy kill right right right right--)

 

“Hey, Nevy?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Gil sighs, flops on his back. “You… said you remembered being in love. Can you describe it to me?”

 

He looks up at her and she’s smiling, wide like an ocean. He _loves_ her. Maybe now he’ll learn what love looks like so he can feel it, one day, all pure and kind with no blood. That’s what love is supposed to be like, he knows. Not tough.

 

“Well,” she says. “I just looked at that picture and it all came back to me, like I was drowning. Love feels like you have something inside of you that’s about to burst. Love feels like your body fluttering and getting hot whenever you’re around them. Love feels like nothing bad can ever happen when you’re with them, like everything in the world is okay. It’s so _wonderful,_ Gil.”

 

“I bet,” Gil muses, and then he’s thinking about a bursting, fluttering, world-stopping love, like maybe a boy will fall out of the sky into his arms and Gil can save him in a way that isn’t like saving the little demon-sheep from themselves. Maybe he can love and be loved. Wouldn’t that be nice. He has a job to do.

 

“Are you okay?” she asks, and he’s back in the reality where the only love he will ever get is the love that the knives give him, sharp blade-kisses into his hand.

 

“I’m fine,” he tells Nevy. “I think I’m going to rest for a while.”

 

Where does Nevy go, he thinks suddenly, when he sleeps? What happens to her when he isn’t in this world? What does she do? Does she wait for him to wake up? Does she think about her old life? Does she try to remember?  Is she with him in his dreams?

 

What a stupid question. Gil doesn’t dream.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think, this fic is My Child
> 
> (yes it is somewhat kinda inspired by orphan black)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [target on your back.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10488585) by [projectfreelancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer)




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